Spaced Out Time Freak

A new school year, and yet I'm already down to the last few weeks of my illustrious substitute teaching career. As much fun (and mind-rendingly annoying) as it's been, I've decided to move to Chicago, find a job with benefits, and go to grad school to become an art teacher. I'm excited. Of course I'll also be acting and hopefully attending Second City improv school, seeking my fame and fortune, but this time with a backup plan that is also fun.

 

Anyhoo, I have not been able to get it together this week in any way, shape, or form. I'm lucky I found today's school (and that the teacher left her computer logged in, enabling me to access the internet, bless her!!!). I just went to Chicago last week to scout out jobs and the apartment scene, and it was fun and exhausting. Now I'm back and, as always seems to happen to me post-travel of any sort, I am completely unable to get back in the swing of things. Heck, I can't even find the playground, let alone anything remotely resembling a swing!

 

I was telling two dear friends of mine that I think I should go to Jamaica or Ireland because I hear that the locals have the same relationship to time-space that I do... Which, now that I stop to think about it, is the equivalent of two people who can't stop cheating on their spouses with each other. We get together when we can, relish every minute together, sometimes fight and then make up passionately, and then, eventually, retreat to our separate corners of the universe. But if time-space is my mistress (is there a masculine word for mistress?!?!) then to whom, or what, am I married? In other words, which part of the universe do I inhabit the rest of the time? How odd. Sort of a mental rolling over in bed after 27 years to see who is sleeping on the other pillow. I suppose it's... Purple? A squiggly line? A big trampoline covered in stars? (Or just glitter?) Maybe a form of time that branches out like trees rather than moving in a straight line? My own reflection? (That last one's probably the most likely, let's be honest.) A big fairy orgy like some Midsummer Night's Dream bacchanal? An orange elephant? The possibilities are endless. I'm not sure that whichever dimension I inhabit is fully aware that I'm there yet anyway. Like me, it must know that there's something very real around, but it can't put its finger on me. Probably best that way. If it's not sure exactly who I am it can change my hair color to suit its mood.

 

This has been another production of... the inside (or points adjacent) of Inga's brain.

8th Grade Brings Out The Hatred In Me

A few weeks ago one of the teachers at the middle school where I sub often asked me to sub for her today. She failed to tell me she taught 8th grade. My last class was so horrible, I came the closest I ever have to walking out. There was a point when I was staring at the clock at the back of the room, and had to talk myself out of picking up my purse and walking out of that churning classroom, never to be seen at this school again. I decided not to because I didn't want to leave the faculty in a bind. But it prompted me to google, "What's wrong with today's youth." (I never thought I would be that kind of person, but they've driven me to it.) Hilariously, it popped up as a popular search topic.

 

As a result of this search, I happened upon two articles on AskMen.com, written by a guy whose handle is "Mr. Mafioso". He writes articles as a mafia character, complete with Italian interjections and mob references. It makes for funny articles and a good amount of insight, with some of that long-lost machismo as a cherry on top.

 

My final class of the day isn't quite as bad, thank goodness. Since they're busy copying down the answers to a worksheet (because, as one teacher put it, "They've been spoon-fed so long they can't figure out how to feed themselves") I decided to post the links to two articles on "Why Today's Youth Are Garbage". This substitute teacher is so glad to know there is someone else out there who feels the same way. (More than one, since I told one of the teachers here about the articles and she gave me her email address so I could send them to her.)

 

http://www.askmen.com/money/mafioso_100/102_mafia.html
 
http://www.askmen.com/money/mafioso_150/192_mafia.html

Middle School Teachers Take A Lot Of Days Off

That's why I'm here so much. As I type this, a group of seventh grade students are taking their Language Arts benchmark tests. Ah, standardization in all its splendor...

 

They walked in and several of the students remembered me from the last benchmark I gave them, which was in a certain Social Studies class, and proclaimed, "Pain is weakness leaving the body!"

 

We joked around a bit and there were a few class clowns who tried to test me in a battle of wits, but enjoyed being ever so slightly humiliated in the process. One of them cried, "You're evil!" and they all laughed when I giggled and nodded. It's nice to have my reputation preceed me. : )

 

Anyway, this morning I went to a private school in a neighboring county where a friend of mine teaches second grade and also runs a yoga club. Part of my children's yoga teaching certification is that I have to observe and assist for a certain number of hours in a yoga class, and then volunteer a few classes. So I got to watch cute kids do yoga and then come give a benchmark exam. A decent day if you ask me. Especially since I found a HUGE strawberry among the remains of some sort of luncheon in one of the teachers' lounges. And promptly ate it. Yummm...

 

I'm excited because Up just came out today and I will be going to see it this weekend. Hooray for Pixar! Here's hoping they crawl out from under Disney's cloven hoof some time soon.

Big, Burly Nuns

These middle schoolers' behavior is APPALLING. My kids will go to Catholic school and be taught by burly, intimidating nuns. Anything to ensure that they don't turn out like these vermin. I mean, I went to public school and all, but I don't remember behaving this rudely. Even when there was a sub. CONSTANT. TALKING. Answering back. Making faces. Outright disobedience. The grotesque cadence of their virtually illiterate speech. Their foul odor. My only youthful rebellion was that of an intellectual sort, and that was mostly just confined to English class debates and rare class skipping during my senior year of high school. Nothing like this.

 

I mean there comes a point when even the opposable thumbs don't seem to separate them from the animals. Good lord. I'd take a room full of bunnies over this any day.

Holy Field Trip, Batman!

So I show up to my usual middle school for what I presume will be a boring-at-best day of 8th grade science. It turns out I'm going along on a field trip to Goucher College to watch a theater performance of some of the works of Edgar Allen Poe! I'm getting paid to go to the theater. I think I may be able to handle that.

Note: The performances ended up being so boring, and they weren't all Edgar Allen Poe. The one of "The Monkey's Paw" was ok. But I slept through the rest, so again, it was worth it to get paid for sleeping through lame theater. : )

This May Be Sad, But I Love That Someone Is Keeping Track Of It.

Rome may be burning, but by gods, we're not gone yet!

 

http://movies.yahoo.com/news/movies.ap.org/39wizard-oz39-munchkin-mickey-carroll-dies-89-ap

 

 

Spring Is Here

I've had various assignments lately but seeing as I've also been rehearsing a play that's set to go up in a couple of weeks, I've been too busy/tired lately to post much.

A few highlights...

I am, apparently, the first choice for that special ed. co-teacher at a middle school where I've already had several assignments. It tends to be a boring day because the classes are so long and I usually just sit there, falling asleep with my chin on my hand. In math class I have to sit next to one of the students I'm in charge of, he's not a big talker, but he also doesn't have a bad attitude, so I prefer him to some of the others.

Well, the last time I was there, we were sitting in that same math class and I hadn't even said anything to him since, "good morning" at the beginning of the day, when he turned to me and asked, "Are you going to be here again tomorrow?"
I responded, "I have no idea, probably not, though. Why?"
"'Cause you're fun," he said.
"What are you talking about? I'm just sitting here," I said.
He just kind of smiled and paused a moment, then nodded as if to assure me and repeated, "You're fun."

It was actually very sweet.

* * * *

Then the other day I subbed a half day in kindergarten. The teacher left almost no plans but luckily, the teacher's assistant knew what was up and took the reins while I mostly assisted her. If I weren't maintaining the anonymity of the schools where I work I would rave about this one. It's got an amazing location and is a very nice little school. That's all I can really say.

Anyway, I love kindergartners, they're adorable and blurt out random hilarity at a nearly constant rate. This day proved to be no exception.

The kids were trickling into the classroom in the morning, during which time they got to take a few moments and do a worksheet while eating the free breakfast provided by the county.

A word about these free breakfasts: sugar. They are, essentially, of no nutritional value whatsoever. They consist of a choice between small breakfast muffins that are basically just muffin-shaped lumps of processed sugars and simple carbohydrates, and chocolate cookies. I watched two kids open their chocolate milk cartons so that the top was completely open, then drop two chocolate cookies directly into the milk and eat them with a spoon. Ingenious? Yes. Nutritious? No. I am appalled. If this is the board of education's answer to making sure kids get breakfast because it's healthy and gives them a good start to their day, why not just deliver a case of candy bars to classrooms each morning? It would basically have the same effect!

But I digress.

So the kids who have already arrived were sitting there peacefully rotting their teeth and spiking their blood sugar when another little girl ran into the room, flung her arms out wide, threw back her head and cried, "I HAVE TWENTY COUSINS!!!" Everyone stopped and gaped at her. She dropped her hands, looked about the room, and then went to the breakfast bin to get a muffin and milk as if nothing had happened. The beauty of kindergarten is that the rest of the kids immediately went back to fishing their cookies out of their milk, equally blasé about the whole incident.

They were learning about seeds and got to plant birdseed in little plastic cups with soil and water placed on a windowsill. The smell of the soil was almost intoxicating, I am still drunk on spring having arrived.

I think the kids are feeling it too, because one little boy picked me a dandelion and made me promise I wouldn't throw it away but would put it in water when I got home, which, of course, I did.

The same boy wanted me to play on the playground with him, and I told him I was too big to go on the jungle gyms and such, but if he climbed up on the little fort they have and waved to me I would wave back. He finally agreed and ran off, and I figured he would forget all about me the minute he had joined his friends. Then out of the corner of my eye I saw some a small but rapid flurry of movement, and when I turned to look it was him, waving at me as hard as he could, his brow furrowed in concentration. I smiled and waved back, which seemed to satisfy him. He grinned back, dropped his hand, and then carried on playing in peace.

Later in the day they were doing some reading of different books they had in the classroom while they waited to be dismissed for lunch. Each student had a book, and they sat together at their little tables in their shockingly tiny chairs, reading.

Suddenly, one of the little boys gasped and pointed to a picture in his book. Turning to his comrades seated about him, brown eyes lit up from within, he exclaimed, "Look! A gorilla fighting a dinosaur!!!" As I walked by I glanced down to see what he was reading, and smiled in gratitude for the privilege I had to witness this moment: A child's discovery of King Kong vs. Godzilla. It was truly a thing of beauty.